The Art of Crying
by thischarmingpsychopath
Summary: Sebastian Moran had never cried in his entire life. But when he found out his boss Jim Moriarty had shot himself on the roof of St. Bart's Hospital he cried. And then he vowed to get revenge on the detective he held responsible. It's a really awful title, I couldn't think of anything else but give it a chance. Mormor


**A/N: This is just a quick little MorMor oneshot I thought up and had to get out of my system. Hopefully people enjoy it, it's my first attempt at MorMor so I'm nervous like always. As always I don't own the characters, and please feel free to leave me reviews letting me know what you think. I always look forward to getting some feedback. Enjoy!**

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><p>Sebastian Moran fished his phone out of his pocket and saw the text signaling that Sherlock Holmes had jumped off of St. Bart's as planned. Only it wasn't a text from his boss Jim Moriarty like he'd been expecting. It was from a sniper waiting in St. Barts for the plan to be finished. <em>'Where's Jim?' <em>Sebastian texted, an uneasy pit forming in his stomach. It wasn't like Jim not to text him himself, he was Jim's right hand man. He always knew what was going on first.

'_**Jim shot himself, I'm going to get his body now. I'm sorry Sebastian.'**_

The words blurred together on the screen and he was sure he was reading it wrong. There was no way Jim would kill himself, not even for Sherlock Holmes. And if he was going to do that, surely he would have warned him. Jim told him just about everything. He was the only one Jim told everything to, hell he was the only one Jim told _anything_ to.

Sebastian felt his legs go weak and he sank back down onto the steps he had been sitting on before he got the text. He felt empty. Empty except for the pit that felt like it was forming a crater within him. _Jim shot himself._ The words thundered in his head over and over like a sickening chant. And then it happened. He didn't notice at first and then he realized it, he was crying. He had never cried in his entire life. His mother had joked that as a baby everyone thought something was wrong with him because he never cried, not even once. He hadn't even shed a single tear when his mother died and left him an orphan at age thirteen.

But he was crying now, deep unrelenting sobs that felt like they'd rip him apart from the inside. He buried his face in his hands and pulled his knees to his chest. "Fuck you Jim! Fuck you!" he screamed and lashed out, punching the wall. He punched it over and over until his knuckles were bloody and his hand was undoubtedly broken, but he didn't feel a thing. "Why did you have to do it you stupid bastard?" his words were quiet now, barely audible to his own ears. He wasn't sure he knew how to stop crying now that he'd started, the tears just kept coming in waves. His phone chimed again and he almost threw it at the wall. What the fuck did he need a phone for anymore? It's not like he'd ever be getting another text from Jim.

_Jim._ His eyes began to burn again just thinking of him. It was like all of the memories he had of Jim were fighting for dominance in his head and threatening to dismantle him one at a time. There was the first time Jim had kissed him. There was nothing romantic about it, not with Jim. They had just killed a man.

In fact Jim had literally just cut the man's heart from his chest. And with still bloody hands he had pulled Sebastian in to him and kissed him. When Sebastian kissed him back it was as if Jim instantly became a wild animal. He slammed Sebastian against the wall and before he knew it they were both naked and fucking a few feet away from a dead man. By the time they were done Sebastian had the man's blood covering half of his face and countless other parts of his body, and Jim had blood trailing down his neck from a wound Sebastian inflicted by biting him during the act itself.

From then on he had gone from being Jim's favorite pet to knowing Jim genuinely loved him. Even if Jim had never said it in words he knew it. It was in the way Jim looked at him, the way Jim dropped his careful guard around Sebastian. They lived together, but neither of them ever got tired of one another.

It didn't matter if they were discussing donuts or decapitation they never ran out of topics for conversation. And Sebastian loved him. He had never loved anyone in his life the way he loved Jim Moriarty, and now he was dead. Dead because of Sherlock Holmes.

_Sherlock Holmes. _His name dried the tears Sebastian had been crying and replaced the empty feeling with rage. White hot rage like Sebastian had never felt in his life. His fists balled up at his sides, the pain finally shooting through his broken hand only fueling his anger.

He didn't care if the detective was dead. The man _he_ loved was dead and now everyone Sherlock Holmes had loved was going to die too. They would die at his hands, and they would die knowing the pain he had felt. He unlocked his phone and the text sent a vicious smile to his face. _**'Guess who thought he got away with faking his own death? Looks like you have a detective to hunt down.'**_ The sniper from before had texted it to him, and Sebastian couldn't believe he had been about to trash his phone before reading it. He quickly packed his rifle up and ran down the stairs of the building he had been watching John Watson from.

He could care less about Sherlock's annoying friends, he had bigger game to hunt now. If there was anyone he couldn't wait to inflict his rage and pain upon it was Sherlock Holmes. He was going to make sure the detective wished he had jumped off of the rooftop. He met up with the other sniper a few blocks from St. Barts and cornered him instantly in the alley. "How do you know he's alive?" Sebastian growled as he pushed him against the wall.

"I saw it with my own eyes. When I looked out the window at the body before I went up to get Jim I watched them pull the body away and Sherlock Holmes himself laid in it's place. He was alive and covered in some phony fake blood when they put him on that stretcher." The sniper looked nervous so Sebastian removed his hands from his shirt and let him step away from the wall. "Sebastian, have you been crying?" He asked it with blatant shock in his voice and instantly apologized once he saw the warning look Sebastian gave him.

"Did you see where they took him?"

"They took him in to the hospital and he hasn't come out yet. Not that we've seen."

"You better have people watching the doors or I am going to rip your spine out with my bare hands."

"There are people watching all of the doors. I had them get into place the second I saw it." The man's voice wavered with undisguised fear and Sebastian nodded. "Good, text me as soon as he leaves and have them follow him discreetly so we know where he's going. I'm going to have his fucking head."

"Yes sir." He nodded and hurried away, probably scared Sebastian might still rip his spine out just on principle. Sebastian turned and headed back to his flat. He had some planning to do if he was going to kill Sherlock Holmes. He knew he wasn't going to do it immediately. Better to hold off and let him think he had gotten away with it, let him get comfortable thinking Jim Moriarty was dead and nobody was coming for him. And then he would come for him, and he would make him beg for mercy that wouldn't come.

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><p>It had been three days since Jim Moriarty had killed himself on the rooftop of St. Bart's hospital. And today was Sherlock Holmes' funeral. His mock funeral that is and Sebastian knew the detective wouldn't be able to miss it. He had been monitoring the Detective's whereabouts since he left the hospital and he knew he was still in town, albeit laying low. Today was Sebastian's chance to get the revenge he had been dreaming about for three days. He could almost taste it.<p>

He had decided to abandon the plans to torture the detective, he was going to go with his specialty. It would be quicker, cleaner, and less risky this way. He knew he could kill him with a single shot from far away and be gone before anyone could even know what happened. And this way he didn't gave to risk Sherlock being guarded by his older brother.

Sebastian grabbed the case with his rifle in it and headed out the door, taking one last look around his and Jim's flat. It was possible he wouldn't be coming back today if he did somehow get caught or killed after killing Sherlock Holmes. He hadn't really touched anything since that day. He'd wanted the flat to stay how it had been when Jim was here with him.

"I love you Jim. And I'm going to get revenge for you." His eyes fell on one of Jim's coats as he spoke and he took a deep breath. Today was the first day he had felt his familiar sense of calm since Jim had died. Because today he was going to do what he did best to deal with pain, he was going to kill the problem. He shut the door and hurried out to get a cab. He rattled off the address for the cemetery and sat in silence for the drive over.

The driver had attempted to talk to him but he stopped after one icy glare from Sebastian. Once he made it to the cemetery Sebastian waited from afar for nearly two hours until he saw the familiar silhouette of Sherlock Holmes walking towards the headstone only John Watson remained at.

For a moment Sebastian wished John could watch him kill Sherlock, feel the pain of really seeing his best friend die before his eyes. But that wasn't going to happen. Sherlock was far enough away that John would never know. Sebastian had his rifle perched on a headstone and could see Sherlock's head perfectly lined up in his cross hairs. Now was his moment, he could almost taste how wonderful it would feel to pull the trigger and watch the detective crumple onto the ground. There'd be no escaping the death Sebastian was going to bring to him. Sherlock was going to get what he deserved.

"Seb, stop." Sebastian froze and felt as if his whole body had been turned to ice. Had he really lost his mind? Was he was hearing voices now? There was no mistaking that voice, it was Jim's voice, clear as day. Sebastian slowly got onto his knees and turned to see Jim standing behind him a few feet away. Sebastian stared at him, glued to the spot, sure he was seeing a ghost. "Jim-" his voice sounded strained, distorted even to his own ears. "Am I-"

"Crazy? No." Jim answered with a taunting smirk. "I'm not dead."

Sebastian brought his hand to his mouth and stood up. "You fucking bastard! I fucking cried over you. I begged for you to not be dead."

"And here I am, wish granted."

"How could you not tell me right away? How _could_ you!"

"I didn't know you cared so much." A small flicker of amusement passed over Jim's features, he was always teasing, always taunting, even now. "I heard you crying. I was coming up to tell you but I didn't want to interrupt. I knew you'd be more mad if I saw you."

Sebastian had to admit he had a point. If Jim had walked up and seen him when he was sobbing over him, Sebastian would have been the one contemplating blowing his own head off. "I'm touched that you cared."

"Of course I cared about you, you Irish bastard." Sebastian closed the distance between them and pulled Jim to him, forcing his mouth against his roughly. Jim responded eagerly, pushing his tongue into Sebastian's mouth and allowing Sebastian to push his back up against a tree. "I should tear you apart."

"I'd enjoy that." Jim challenged with a raise of his eyebrows. "But not here. As much as I'd love for you to take your anger out on me in this cemetery, the fact of the matter remains that Sherlock Holmes is not very far away. And he can't know I'm alive. Only you can know I'm alive right now. I have plans Sebastian, big plans. And those involve Sherlock very much alive. So pack up your rifle and let's go." There was no question in his voice, it was an order.

Sebastian growled and backed away from Jim, "Fine. But you better fucking promise you're going to include me in these plans of yours from now on. I could kill you myself for making me think you were dead."

"It was just a bit of fun." Jim shrugged with a Cheshire cat grin. "I'm flattered you cared so much."

"Fuck off." Sebastian shot back with a scowl. He knew he was never going to live this down and was thankful for the second time that Jim hadn't seen him crying. The fact that he'd even heard it was bad enough. Not that he'd ever admit to Jim that he was glad he hadn't told him right away. He packed up his rifle and followed Jim over to a black car, the windows tinted almost as black as the car itself.

"I hope you're not too upset with me Sebby, because you'll be stuck with me in hiding for a long time if you come with me right now. It's your choice of course, but I'll be honest and say I want you to come with me." Sebastian knew Jim well enough to read through his calm exterior. He could tell Jim was nervous Sebastian was going to leave him, that Jim had pushed him too far this time. But Sebastian knew he couldn't leave Jim. Not after the pain he'd felt when he thought he'd lost him three days ago. He wouldn't ever willingly leave him, not even if it meant a lifetime of dealing with Jim and his 'little games' he liked to play.

"I'm coming with you." Sebastian promised, pleased at the smile that played at Jim's lips once he made his choice.

"Good, then you can tear me apart and punish me in this back seat. It's a long drive to where we're going." He opened the door and motioned for Sebastian to get in, which he did immediately. Jim climbed in beside him and shut the door, putting the partition up so the driver couldn't see them. "I hope you're excited Seb, I have big plans for us and our dear detective friend. And don't worry, from now on you'll know everything."


End file.
